iCarry Your Heart With Me
by SkylightScreen
Summary: Freddie screwed up big time. In trying to fix his mistake, he winds up telling his entire story to a total stranger. Story takes place mainly in flashback. Chronicles Creddie from the time they're 13 to the time they're 25 and engaged. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

The back of the cab smelled like old Chinese food and the seats retained a certain dampness as if having just been rained on, but Freddie Benson didn't notice. He stared aimlessly through the smoggy glass, taking no notice of the pale blue sky or sparkling river beyond it. The cab sat stationary on the bridge, and the driver had begun to fill out crossword puzzles.

He glanced towards the front of the cab. "You're sure there's no other way to get to the airport?" Freddie asked sharply, his voice a bit strangled.

The driver looked up slowly, jutting his scraggly chin forward in defense.

"No, sir," he said. "Can't do nothin' about the traffic, sir."

To his great exasperation, Freddie felt a hard lump begin to rise in his throat. He had been trying to control his heartbeat so as not to heave up his lunch in the back of a cab, but he found he couldn't really do it any longer, and his blood began to churn furiously. His pale hands shook and he tried to find something to occupy them with. He began to peel away at the paint on the back of his phone, just for something to do. He slid it open again in his palm, hoping for some sort of miracle, but no such luck. The screen remained as blank as ever. It was as dead as the driver of every vehicle in front of the cab was going to become if traffic didn't start moving again soon.

Freddie leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, wishing for a moment he could fall asleep and forget about what was happening to his life. The car crept forward a few inches, and his eyelids snapped open hopefully. The cars were at least inching along now, instead of sitting at a complete standstill. The hard lump in his throat wouldn't subside – he moved his hand to his throat and attempted to soothe it manually, but no such luck. The cars stopped again. The cab driver glanced into the rearview again and watched the man who looked as though he was nearing a full-on breakdown. He chose his words cautiously.

"Got a big job presentation or somethin' today?" he said, adjusting his cap atop his scruffy hair.

Freddie glanced at the man, his eyes half-crazed. "No," he said quietly.

"You tryin' to get to your wedding?" the driver asked, half-joking.

Freddie laughed darkly. "You could say that." He stared determinedly out the window again.

"Well I sure as heck give up, then," the driver said. "What's eatin' you?"

Freddie slowly turned his head to look into the man's face through the rearview. His eyes were a striking blue, his skin rough and tan as leather, and he looked as though he hadn't even tried to shave since 1996. But there was undeniable sincerity etched in his features, and Freddie couldn't remember feeling so trapped in his entire life. At 25, he was as desperate as he had ever been, and if a scruffy cab driver with a smelly car was going to be the one to throw him a line, he was in no state to argue.

"I have to get to the airport because someone really important is about to get on a plane and leave me forever," he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, blinking back a few rebellious tears.

The driver stared at him. "Your lady?"

Freddie nodded, sliding his hands under his knees to try and stop them from shaking.

"You married?" the man asked, his voice kind and transparent.

Freddie stared at his lap. "We were going to be," he said, amazed at how speaking seemed to be quelling the shaking in his nerves. "In a month."

The cab driver looked thoughtful. "You seem like a nice fella'," he said. "Nice haircut. Clean face. Knows how to care about stuff. 'N all that."

Freddie looked up at the stranger in the front seat. "I'm sorry?"

"Yeh know, you can just tell whenever someone's a good person 'r not," he said. "Like even though you're about to lose your nut, I can tell when I look atcha that yer nice. You wouldn' be the type o' guy to smack your lady around or anything."

"No, nothing like that," Freddie sighed, "but what I did was pretty horrible."

"Well what happened?" the driver asked.

Freddie paused, looking at the man's face in the mirror warily.

"Oh, c'mon," he said, waving a hairy arm carelessly, "Who'm I gonna tell? C'mon, you'll feel better."

Freddie blinked a few times, then sighed again. "It's a pretty long story." _The longest, actually_, he thought wryly. _It's my life_.

The driver grinned. "Well, pal, you 'n' me might be stuck here on this bridge together for 'least another hour or so. Might as well start at the beginning."

Freddie stared out the window again, deliberating. The water glistened, the sky remained blue, and he still didn't care. He slid his phone open and shut a few times in his hand again, examining the damage he had done to the paint job. _What the hell,_ he thought.

Then he took a deep breath, and started at the very beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

"Let me up!" he screeched in her ears, his voice wavering with the ambiguity of being between squeaky little boy and deepening, growing teenager.

"Not until you promise not to tell!" she squealed back, her fingers like a vice on his struggling arms, his legs kicking beneath her spread ones. She dug her nails into the sensitive skin along his wrists, and he groaned and went limp beneath her.

She sighed and released him, rolling her weight from her knees back onto her heels and allowing him to prop himself up by his elbows. "We'll just have to come up with another way to fix this," she said quietly, casting her eyes downward and then gazing at him through her eyelashes.

The effect of her lovely brown eyes staring into his own through the curtain of her delicately curled lashes was a bit much. He swallowed hard as he felt that familiar dry sensation between his teeth. But it wasn't as though he would ever, or could ever, do anything about it if he wanted those lovely brown eyes to stay in his life. So he moved his glance to the ceiling and thought for a moment.

"Maybe if there was just a way I could get into the school's system…" he trailed off.

She tilted her head thoughtfully, causing a piece of hair to slide forward over her shoulder and dangle dangerously close to his face. He stiffened. He wasn't sure if she noticed – she had chosen that moment to gently climb off of him and sit next to him on the rug, her knees drawn up to her chest. He sat up too, crossing his legs, and looked into her dejected face.

"What are we going to do?" she muttered, burying her face in her knees. Freddie dug at his memory, trying for the life of him to figure out if he knew how to do anything that could fix their problem. Anything to get that look off of that girl's face. The answer came to him quickly, almost as though he had known it all along. A cold, frenzied type of electricity flooded him as he spoke.

"I know! If I can get to the t5 hookup in the computer lab and copy the system's information, I can just do it on my laptop!"

Carly raised her head and looked at him, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto her lips. "Then we can change our grades back without telling on Sam! Yes! Are you sure you can do it?"

"Sure, no problem," he replied, smiling back, the cold electricity in his blood warming into pure happiness as he realized he had the power to put a smile, however small, on Carly's face. "I'll just need you to create a distraction tomorrow during class and then I can go and get all the information."

Her face showed nothing put pure relief as she finally unraveled herself from the fetal position on the floor, stretched a bit, and got up and walked into the kitchen.

"Want some juice?" she called to him over her shoulder as she opened the fridge and peered inside.

Freddie remained cross-legged on the floor, unable to keep from staring at the interesting little designs made of pink thread on the back pockets of her jeans. He immediately dropped his gaze to the carpet and began to run his fingers through it absently.

"I, um…yeah. Juice would be nice, thanks." His tongue had gone dry again.

* * *

Freddie's hands kept clenching tightly and then unclenching – it was an unpleasant sensation and his knuckles had already gone white, but it seemed he was powerless to stop them from doing this. He glanced over at the girl perched next to him, their chairs shoved as close together as two chairs could be without merging into a single object. She had her head down, a curtain of silky brown hair shielding her face from his view. But her shoulder appeared to be shaking, and he noticed her hands doing the same thing his were doing. He thought about maybe reaching over, laying one of his hands on her arm or something in a comforting sort of way, but he examined his white, shaking hands again and decided against it.

"You two," said one of the men in the CSA uniforms unkindly, pointing a large finger in his and Carly's direction. "Come over here, please."

Freddie glanced over at Carly again, then pushed himself off of the chair and took a few steps toward the CSA men and his school principal. Carly kept closer to him than she ordinarily would have as they crossed the room, and despite the seriousness of the situation, he felt a twinge of happiness that she trusted him to protect her, however subconsciously.

"Carly, Freddie," Principal Franklin addressed them, sounding confused but at least kinder than the CSA officials, "These men seem to think the two of you hacked into the school's computer system this afternoon. Do you have anything to tell us?"

Freddie looked sideways. Carly was playing with the hem of her t-shirt, her mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. "We did," he said quietly, "but it wasn't what you think. It was…uh…" he trailed off, unable to think of an excuse that did not get either him, Carly, or Sam into serious trouble.

"We heard it was your birthday!" Carly blurted out frantically, looking at Principal Franklin.

"Um, yeah," Freddie continued. "We hacked into the school's network just so we could make sure. So…so we could get you a birthday present!"

"Yeah!" Carly screeched, her expression relaxing slightly as she realized they had a hope of getting out of their predicament sans Juvenile Detention.

"Aw, you guys! See, I told you they wouldn't be up to anything mischievous," Principal Franklin turned to tell the CSA officials, who shrugged.

The Principal turned back to Carly and Freddie. "So, where is it?" he smiled.

Freddie froze. "W-what?" he stammered.

"Where's my present? You said you had something for me," Principal Franklin said.

"Oh! Y-yeah! One second," Carly said, grabbing Freddie by the wrist and dragging him into the kitchen.

"Why'd you tell him we got him a present?" she whispered angrily, her hair whipping her face as she spun to face him.

"I don't know! Because you brought up the birthday thing!" he whispered back frantically, his wrist beginning to ache from her rigor mortis grip.

She groaned and began to pace through the kitchen, sorting through drawers, searching for something to give Principal Franklin. He followed suit, his eyes swiveling around the room and finally coming to rest on the bright red microwave oven sitting on the counter. He ran to it and groped the back for the wire.

Carly was right behind him. She ducked under the counter and tugged the plug out of the outlet. She thrust the microwave into Freddie's arms, grabbed a red bow from a nearby drawer, and pulled him back into the living room. He staggered behind her under the weight of the microwave.

"Surprise!" they shouted simultaneously, cheesy smiles plastered across their exasperated faces.

* * *

The auditorium lights dimmed, and as usual, Freddie was hyperaware of the girl sitting to his left in the darkness. The one to his right was already chewing on a turkey leg, a bit of skin dangling attractively between her teeth.

"Sam," he groaned, "really?"

Her foot came up and whacked him in the back of his right leg, and he stifled his outburst and instead settled for an expressive "Mmuh." The girl to his left giggled.

He slouched back in his chair and planted his feet, spreading his legs and getting comfortable. Assembly today was a filmstrip about the evolution of the word "respect" and how one could practice the idea on a daily basis. He wasn't particularly interested, and he thought maybe he could doze off for a few minutes if he could get even remotely comfortable in the spongy, scratchy auditorium seats.

His mind flitted in and out of focus, hovering somewhere between consciousness and daydreams, as his eyes stared blankly at the screen without really seeing anything. He was jolted back to reality when he felt a cold hand close gently around his left arm. Freddie looked at it for a moment, and then looked up at its owner. Her eyes bored into his with a kind of emotional intensity he had never seen before, unless he counted his mother when she was really upset with him. But this wasn't really like that – Carly's expression made him want to melt into a puddle of bliss, not cower in a corner.

"You went to Principal Franklin's office to take the heat for us," she whispered. She was close enough that he could feel her breath warm his skin. It wasn't a question.

"So did you," he whispered back.

She was quiet for a moment, her chilly fingers tapping against his arm playfully.

"Freddie," she said seriously, "Thanks for always being there for me. You know, as a friend." She stopped, but he sensed there was more. He waited quietly for her to continue.

"I have Sam, and I love her, but sometimes she can just be a little insensitive," Carly whispered.

"No!" Freddie gasped in mock astonishment, the two of them chuckling quietly as they glanced at the blond friend in question. She had fallen asleep, her mouth lolling open, a half-eaten turkey leg in her hand. Freddie smiled at the comfortingly predictable sight and turned back to Carly.

"I guess I'm just trying to say thanks," Carly continued, no longer meeting his eyes. "Not just for this time, but for all the times. I don't know what I would do without you as one of my best friends, Freddie. I'd probably go crazy."

He felt his heart flutter at her words, but for once, for the right reasons. He watched as she smiled a little at embarrassment at her random sappiness, and she began to pick at the threads in her jeans with her free hand. She left her right hand on his arm, waiting for him to reply.

And suddenly he understood. He loved Carly - he'd probably always love Carly, and that was just something they'd both have to deal with. But he sat here, mouth dry, senses tingling, heart under siege, and allowed their friendship to continue as usual without pushing his boundaries because he needed it. He needed their pure, uncomplicated friendship in his life so much that he'd ignore everything her mere presence did to his body just to keep it going. And she went through every day knowing he loved her and would give anything for her to be with him, but trusting him not to. Because his friendship meant that much to her. His brain seemed to release an audible "click" as he registered all this and then turned to face her again.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for trusting me. And for letting me be your best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you, Carly."

Her smile widened at his whispered words, and she stopped picking at her clothes and laid both hands on his arm.

"Do you mind?" she asked self-consciously. "You're really warm."

He laughed, a little louder than he probably should have.

"Go for it," he whispered, and he turned again to face the screen as his mouth went dry and his best friend Carly tapped rhythms onto his skin with her cold fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

The summer he turned fourteen, Freddie began to notice that he didn't have to tilt his head upwards to talk to either of his best friends anymore. He also noticed that when Sam shoved him over, he didn't _always_ collapse. Sometimes he actually managed to stand his ground. At one point, Sam even asked him, "What up with your weird voice?" to which he shrugged and casually responded, "Puberty."

During those few months, he did notice Carly's attitude toward him change just slightly. She seemed less – put off? Was that it? – by him. Occasionally he'd find himself standing or sitting closer to her than was probably necessary, and where before she would have shoved him away (and still did occasionally), there were other times where she let him be, seeming comfortable with his presence so close to hers. She'd fall asleep on his broadening shoulders, or cling to his somewhat-toned arm when she was freaking out about something. And he would try desperately not to read into it.

"Watch it, Freddork," Sam chided for the thousandth time as Freddie inadvertently stole her bounce. It was a dark summer night, and everything around them seemed to be breathing sighs of relief as the heat from the day evaporated with the last of the light in the sky. She reached out and smacked him hard in the side.

"Ow!" he cried indignantly, clutching his side for a moment. Then he stopped in the middle of the trampoline, forcing Sam to steal his bounce and sending her catapulting into the air. He laughed at the split second that utter terror was just barely discernible across her face.

Sam made toward him again, but was stopped by Carly's arm.

"Sam," she said, "It's his birthday. Let him be."

Sam shrugged and then grinned mischievously. "Fine. I'll leave him alone." And as she flung herself down onto the trampoline, splaying her limbs out and closing her eyes, Freddie distinctly heard her mutter under her breath, "_'Til it's not his birthday anymore._"

Choosing to ignore this, Freddie lowered his body onto the trampoline as well, laying down and spreading himself out comfortably. He laced his fingers and rested his head on them, and soon Carly was next to him. She looked into his face and smiled, and then gestured towards their feet. His were clearly several inches further away than hers were. He grinned.

"I guess I'm not that little dweeb who follows you around anymore, huh?" he asked her playfully, his smile still playing around his lips.

"No," she replied thoughtfully, twisting a lock of her hair between a few fingers, "You're not little anymore."

Sam chucked appreciatively from somewhere above his head.

"Hey!" he retorted indignantly, and he knocked one of her legs with his knee. She laughed a free, natural-sounding laugh, and he smiled. It was more like Carly to let out a self-conscious giggle now and then, and he loved the moments where he felt her open up and stop caring about the way the world saw her.

"Hey you guys! Where'd you go?" Gibby's voice carried from across the lawn, and the three of them sat up on the dark trampoline.

"Oh, there you are!" he called excitedly. "Come on in! Spencer's here with the cake!"

Before he could move a muscle, Sam sprang up and leapt impressively over both him and Carly (had they not been on a trampoline, it would have been particularly astonishing). She bounded across the lawn, and Carly and Freddie heard the screen door slam as they sat up. Carly shook her head, smiling, and then pushed some of her hair out of her face and stood up. She offered him a hand.

"Shall we?" she asked, grinning, her face alight with genuine excitement. It warmed every molecule of blood in his veins to know that her excitement was purely for him. He took her hand gladly, and with his help, Carly pulled him to his feet.

As they crossed the lawn leisurely, their arms swinging into one another's, neither one of them apologized. Just before they reached the screen door where their friends had disappeared, Carly looped her arms around his midsection and squeezed him tightly. It was intimate and comfortable, but not quite romantic.

"Happy birthday, Freddie," she said quietly, looking up at him with shining eyes. He smiled down at her, sliding an arm around her back and squeezing her back. As they crossed the threshold of Gibby's kitchen, they let their arms drop. Freddie stayed close to Carly as his eyes registered what he was seeing.

Gibby's kitchen was completely decked out in blue, green, and red streamers. Sam, Gibby, Spencer, Gibby's mom, and Mrs. Benson were all gathered around Gibby's kitchen table, on which sat the biggest cake Freddie had ever seen in his life. It was shaped like a huge video camera – the camera he always used to tape iCarly, to be exact. The blue antenna on the back of it looked to be about two feet long, and it actually glowed. The screen was propped open on the side, and Spencer had blown up a photo taken of Carly and Sam during one of their bits and attached it there.

"Happy Birthday, Freddo!" Spencer yelled happily, and Freddie continued to stare speechlessly.

"Say something!" laughed Carly, nudging him in the ribs.

"I…I don't think I can!" Freddie managed to get out. "This is so amazing, Spence! Thank you so much!"

Spencer smiled. "Anything for a kid who's practically a member of the family."

They each ended up with a slice of cake that was approximately the size of their heads, and they barely made a dent in the monstrous cake. Mrs. Benson kept eyeing it warily, as though it was a syringe full of diabetes just waiting for an opportunity to attack her son. Spencer and Gibby's mom alternated between making awkward conversation and talking to the teenagers. And Freddie sat happily amidst the people he loved most in the world and shoveled cake into his body.

A couple hours later, when nobody could do much more than grunt lazily from being so full of birthday camera cake, Mrs. Benson insisted the party break up.

"It's a school night, Freddie," she said sternly as she asked him to start saying his goodbyes.

"_Mom_," he groaned, and Sam giggled.

"Hey Gib, come help me load this cake into Mrs. Benson's Prius!" Spencer called from the hallway. Gibby trotted out of the room, followed by Mrs. Benson, who nervously called things like, "Don't you dare get any icing on the upholstery!"

Freddie sighed and turned to his two best friends. "Thanks, you guys. This was the best birthday celebration I could have asked for."

Carly stepped forward and gave him another tight hug, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. He turned, thanked Gibby's mom for the party, and followed the sound of his mother arguing with Spencer out to the driveway in front of the house.

"This is the only way it'll fit, Mrs. Benson!" Spencer protested as he heaved the last corner of the cake-sculpture into the Bensons' tiny Prius.

"But it's going to make my car smell like dessert!" she cried. She stopped abruptly when she noticed Freddie, however, and said, "Regardless of its inconvenient size, thank you for the cake, Spencer. You really made Freddie's birthday special."

Spencer looked rather surprised. "I…he…um…"

Mrs. Benson didn't wait for a reply, but hopped into the drivers' seat of her car. Freddie slid into the passenger's side and buckled himself in, rolling the window down and leaning his head back. His heart fluttered contentedly when he thought about the evening's events, and how even Sam had seemed to genuinely want him to have a nice birthday. He felt warm from all the company and pleasantly full from all the cake. He smiled to himself, glad it was dark so his mom wouldn't notice and start to question him or take his temperature.

Mrs. Benson rolled the Prius forward painfully slowly. She braked several times, backing up again and again, trying to arrange her car at just the right angle to get down the rest of the wooded driveway path. Beginning to feel irritated by this, Freddie opened his mouth to say something, but got distracted by the two girls walking toward Spencer's van in the darkness, the porch light illuminating their silhouettes but leaving their faces in darkness. He raised his hand to wave, and caught snippets of what they were saying through his open window.

"You guys were out there alone for a minute, huh? Did you tell him?" Sam's low voice carried in the silence of the night. Freddie didn't have to strain to hear her. He lowered his hand curiously, and his mom braked and backed up again.

"No," Carly's voice responded dejectedly, "I didn't want to ruin his birthday."

"I thought you guys got past all that chizz!" Sam replied, sounding surprised.

"Shh! We did! But…I don't know, I just didn't want to give him anything to feel weird about. It's his fourteenth birthday, and he's one of my best friends."

"Whatever you say, Carls, but I still say it's better he hears it from you than from somebody else. People at school are gonna talk. He's gonna find out you're dating Evan."

"We're not dating!"

"Okay. He's gonna find out you have 'a thing' with Evan."

The shadows of Carly and Sam disappeared around the other side of Spencer's van, and Mrs. Benson was finally satisfied with the angle of her car and began to pull forward earnestly. Freddie sat in the darkness, his smile fading, his hands twisting in his lap, and began to realize just how sick all that cake was making him feel.

* * *

**A/n:**

**Aww, don't worry. I know it's frustrating, but things will heat up eventually. :)**

**Besides, I've decided I really want this to follow a realistic, somewhat-believable pattern. So you might have to be patient with me.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n:**

**Thank you guys SO much for all the love. Seriously, it makes my day when I get such nice comments, and I love knowing you guys are having as much fun reading this story as I am writing it.**

**I apologize for the delay in updating – I had to move into college and start a new semester, so things have been kind of hectic, but hopefully now that a routine seems to be settling into place, I'll be more diligent about it in the future. :)**

**I hope you keep reading, keep enjoying, and keep letting me know what you think!**

**

* * *

**He found his eyes glued to the way her lips parted ever so slightly whenever she knew a kiss was coming. The most recent instance happened in the middle of the school day when he was tying his shoe near her locker. He looked up at her and saw her eyes glazed over with that lustful expression and her lips begin to part. The movement was so subtle, he figured she didn't even know she was doing it. And he knew who must have been behind him.

"Hey," a deep voice came from somewhere to the back of him. He sighed gently, tugged once more at his bright white shoelaces, and straightened up.

"Hey Evan," he said, backing out of the way so Evan could make out with the girl of his dreams.

"Mmf," Evan managed to utter before his lips were crushed by Carly's glossy ones. After a few agonizing seconds, during which Freddie stared at his new green-and-white Converse, they pulled away.

"Mm, pineapple," Evan said, sweeping his ridiculously abundant blond hair away from his stupid green eyes.

Carly laughed a short, breathy laugh and backed against her locker, returning her attention to Freddie now that she'd gotten her kiss of the hour.

"So what were you telling me about those new wireless video chat thingies?" she asked, smiling sweetly and almost apologetically at him, as though she knew how much the current situation was compressing the muscles in his chest.

"Oh, nothing," he said, his head down. He looked up at her through the fringe of brown hair that had grown over his forehead. "I was just saying that it's some really neat technology, and if we got a few of them hooked up to the iCarly website and each of us carried one, then we could post videos anywhere, anytime, and I think the fans would-"

He abruptly cut off, though, as Evan blocked Carly from his view and pressed her up against her locker. He was a little surprised at some of the things she let Evan do, and if he was honest with himself, he was even a little bit put off by it. Carly was someone who always knew who she was and what was expected of her. He didn't like that she'd let some pretty boy take advantage of her like that.

"I'll see you later, Carly," Freddie mumbled. He doubted she even heard him, what with all that blond hair blocking her hearing. He shuffled off before she had a chance to respond. He turned down a hallway and caught up with Sam, who was evidently on her way to the cafeteria.

She tossed some long blond hair over her shoulder to look at him.

"'Sup, Fredweird?" she asked, waving what appeared to be half a turkey sandwich near his face. "You look spooked."

"Nah, I'm fine. I just…didn't do so well on a test, is all."

The corners of Sam's mouth turned down as she studied his expression, and she even lowered her sandwich.

"C'mon, kid. Out with it," she said impatiently as they rounded another corner, the double-leveled cafeteria suddenly expanding before them.

"It's not a big deal," he insisted, flinching as Sam's half-eaten turkey sandwich sailed alarmingly close to his face and landed next to a nearby trashcan.

She shrugged. "'Kay then. Let's get food." She made her way towards the spaghetti line.

"I'm not hungry," he protested flatly. "I'm just gonna go get a table."

He turned away from her and trudged in the general direction of their usual table, second to the right in the corner by the window. He felt a hand on his backpack, stopping him in his tracks.

"Ow," he murmured as the straps cut into his shoulders. Sam came into view beside him as he skidded backwards across the linoleum.

"_Don't_ walk away from me," she scolded him. She dragged him by the handle on his backpack to the nearest empty table and pushed him down into a seat.

"Sam," he began as she plopped into the seat next to him, sitting sideways to face him and flinging her bag onto the floor. "This isn't-"

"Ugh, quit your lying, Freddie," she said, rolling her eyes. "Something's up with you, even if it 'isn't a big deal.'"  
"Why do you care?" he shot back coldly, her many tauntings about how Carly would never love him floating to the surface of his mind and spreading salt neatly over his wounds.

"Dude," Sam said, her angry eyebrow-slant relaxing away to reveal genuine concern in her features. "I'm your friend, okay? We tease each other, but that's just how we show affection." A small smile crept onto the corner of her mouth.

He looked away from her and studied the seventh graders who were now seating themselves at their usual table, looking giddy to have snagged such a coveted cafeteria spot.

"Besides," she continued seriously, "I'm pretty sure I already know what this is about. And I don't like it any more than you do."

His gaze snapped back to her, something that felt a little like hope seeping back into his heart. "You don't?"

"'Course not," Sam scoffed, snatching a smoothie off of a deserted lunch tray at the next table and setting it in front of her. "It's gross how that kid's always shoving her up against lockers and lucking her face off. Like I want to see that. Please." She wrestled with the straw for a moment, then sipped on it curiously.

"Meh. Banana," she sighed, sliding the cup towards Freddie. He shook his head, so she tossed it to the floor.

"Sam, what do I do?" Freddie moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Well, not that," she retorted, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back up.

He looked at her with an expression that _felt_ pitiful, even though he couldn't see what it looked like.

"Look, Freddie," she said. "You can't force Carly to love you."

"I kno-"

"Shush, let me talk!" Sam interrupted fiercely, slapping his wrist hard enough to leave a red mark. Freddie knew enough by this point not to comment; plus, the stinging in his skin was easy to ignore next to the dull ache that filled his ribcage.

"You can't force Carly to love you," Sam continued, "but you don't need to. None of the guys she goes out with have got anything on you."

Freddie froze, his heart pounding nervously in his chest. "Uh, Sam?" He swallowed hard and looked into her face, noticing confusion there. Then something clicked.

"I'm not hitting on you, creep," Sam rolled her eyes. "I'd rather date Gibby than you. You're not listening."

Freddie's nervous heartbeat slowed, and he relaxed. "Thank God," he muttered under his breath. Sam ignored him.

"Next to me, you're the best friend Carly has. You'd do anything for her. You'd like…starve to death, or take a bullet or something. I don't even know if I could do that for someone, as much as I love Carly. I'd think about my own life first. But you'd fling yourself in front of that gun without even thinking about it."

"So?" Freddie curled his hands against his chest and sighed. He felt like telling her she was making him feel worse, not better, but the idea of Sam helping him was so foreign and unprecedented that he kept quiet.

"_So,_ Carly would never date anyone you didn't like. She'd never try to hurt you, and she'd never want to lose you as a friend. That girl spends a lot of time feeling guilty about what a great friend you are to her, regardless of how much it hurts you. She feels like she owes you a lot – trust me, I can't even count the number of midnight texts I've gotten anymore. You've got the power here. Not the dude who's shoving her against lockers."

Freddie stared into his lap and relaxed his hands. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. His brain moved as though the gears were frozen and needed several seconds to warm up.

"So…what does that mean?" he asked dumbly.

"It means, Freddork," said Sam, getting up from the table to buy her lunch, "that you shouldn't give up so easily."

* * *

Her squealing laughter carried out into the hallway as Freddie knocked on her door later that night, and he smiled a little as Spencer opened it.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, opening the door wider and granting Freddie entrance to the apartment. Carly and Sam were sitting on the stairs, laughing uproariously about something they were looking at on Carly's phone.

"What's going on, you guys?" Freddie asked hesitantly, trying to smile and act light and carefree. He was still processing everything that had happened during school, and his insides felt heavy and awkward.

"Evan sent me this video of his dog hopping down the stairs. It's so funny, I think we should show it on iCarly," Carly giggled, looking up and smiling at Freddie.

"Awesome," he said, and only Sam caught his sarcasm. He saw her smirk a little from where he was standing.

"Speaking of Evan, we should get going, Carls," Sam said, standing up and bounding down the last few stairs. Carly stood up too, and it was then that Freddie noticed her clothing. She had some sort of see-through blue t-shirt on, and underneath he could clearly see the outline of a lacy black undershirt. Her dark green skirt skimmed just beneath the upper parts of her thighs, revealing enough of her milky skin to make his mouth water uncomfortably.

He glanced at Sam, and noticed that for some odd reason, she was wearing a dress. And he thought she might even have washed her hair.

"Okay, I'm going to get in the shower," Spencer announced. "You girls be careful, okay? I'm trusting you. My phone will be on all night, and I don't want you home a minute later than 12:30."

"I know, Spence, don't worry. Evan's friend's parents will be there." Carly smiled at her brother.

"Sam, is your mom going to give you two a ride home, too?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, it's all set," Sam waved him off impatiently.

"Okay then. Be careful," he repeated, and then he disappeared into the bathroom.

"What's going on?" Freddie asked suspiciously, glancing between the two girls.

"Evan's friend who goes to Blackfield Junior High is having a party," Carly said, "and he invited me, and I asked Sam to go."

"Yep. Ya ready?" Sam chimed in, skipping for the door of the apartment.

"Whoa. Wait," said Carly, and Sam stopped in her tracks.

"What's up?" Sam asked, wandering back towards her friend.

"You can't wear those," Carly said, pointing towards the floor. Freddie glanced down and noticed that Sam had put on torn blue sneakers with her dress. He couldn't help grinning.

"I don't own any girly shoes," Sam grimaced. "Nor do I want to."

"You can borrow some," Carly said. "Go upstairs and get the silver heels from my closet."

"Fiiine," Sam sighed, dragging herself up the stairs to get the shoes.

Once Sam was upstairs, Carly turned to Freddie and smiled kindly.

"Got any fun plans for tonight?" she asked him, moving towards him. He could smell her sugary perfume, and she was still a good three feet away.

"Not really," he said quietly, toying with his phone to occupy his nervous hands. "I figured I'd hang with you guys. You know. 'Cause that's kind of always what we do on Friday nights.

Carly's face fell. "Freddie, I'm sorry. I didn't realize our movie nights meant that much to you. We can stay home if you want." She picked at the threads in the sofa as she said the last portion, indicating to him that she clearly wanted to go to the party.

"No. Go," he said flatly, avoiding her eyes. "I'll be fine."

"It's just this once," she said, her tone almost pleading. "I promise, next Friday it'll be back to movie night just like always."

"Yeah," he said, daring a glance at her face. She smiled hesitantly.

"Right, well. Have fun," he said, unable to prevent a little bit of sarcasm from leaking into his defeated retort. He turned and walked to the door, and it was only once his hand was on the doorknob that Carly spoke.  
"Do you want to come?" she asked awkwardly, her tone uncertain.

He turned and looked at her. She was staring at the carpet, running the toe of her boot along the side of the couch. Her dark hair fell in wavy strands, covering most of her face.

"No," he replied emotionlessly, turning the doorknob and shutting the door firmly behind him as he spilled into the hallway.

* * *

Freddie stretched back in his computer chair and lengthened his cramped spine for the first time in hours. The bright green numbers on the digital clock next to his computer read 10:15, and the "Friends" theme song kicked on for the 45,000th time that night as the next episode on the disc came on. As the main titles rolled across the screen of his computer, he realized he'd spent his Friday night watching almost an entire season of "Friends." It was ironic, being that his had ditched him for boys and parties and, knowing Sam and her bad influence, probably alcohol. Something Freddie had never been comfortable with.

He paused the screen and slid onto the floor, allowing his body to recover from its position in the computer chair. He flattened himself against the floor, pressing his spine into the rug and breathing in the scent of his mother's favorite carpet cleaner. His pocket began vibrating, and it didn't stop after two beats like it usually did for a text message.

After a second or two of debate with himself, happy with his current sense of numbness and exhaustion to the current events in his life, he dug his phone out of his pocket and pressed the green button to answer it without bothering to see who it was.

"H'llo?" he sighed, his voice carrying nothing but remnants of the tired ache that lay upon every one of his muscles.

"Freddie, I need you," a panicked voice said. Having never heard this particular voice in such a state before, it took him a minute to realize who was talking to him.

"Sam?" he mumbled tiredly, sitting up on the rug, his eyelids drooping slightly.

"Yeah, who else? Wake up, Freddie, this is important."

He was slightly perturbed by her lack of calling him names, and it set off some sort of reaction in his veins that instantly woke him up and alerted him to the cold, sharp fact that something was, indeed, wrong.

"What is it?" he asked sharply, adrenaline finding its way back into his body. He pushed himself off the floor and began to pace his bedroom as she spoke.

"I think something happened to Carly. The last time I saw her, she was next to the pool table with Evan and all of these guys. And then a bunch of them went into the backyard, and when I went out to find her, they all said she and Evan had gone upstairs. That was two hours ago, and I still haven't seen her. I've looked everywhere, asked everyone, but nobody here even knows who Carly is except for Evan's useless friends. I don't know what to do."

Sam's voice nearly broke towards the end, and Freddie couldn't have told you how long it took him to pull on jeans, shoes, and a jacket. She gave him directions to the house and he did his best to calm her down. He counted on the fact that his mother would be sound asleep by now, grabbed a key, and was in the hallway in front of his apartment locking his door by the time he hung up with Sam.

* * *

He could feel the steady thud from the beats of the music playing inside the house before he even got out of the cab. He paid the quizzical-looking cab driver, who was no doubt wondering if it was legal to leave a fourteen-year-old kid at such a crazy-looking party so late at night, and stepped out of the car quickly.

As he climbed the creaky, wooden porch steps and waded through crowds of people in order to reach the front door, he debated whether to knock or simply let himself in. There didn't seem to be a way for anyone to hear him, though, with all the noise coming from inside, so he pried back the screen door and slid into the dark, crowded house.

There were very few lights on, and it seemed that every step he took into the house, he was running into more and more people. Frustrated, he pulled out his phone to text Sam.

_I'm here. Where R U?_

As he waited for her reply, he kept his cell phone out and held it in front of him to illuminate his path. He pressed himself against walls to avoid people and moved whenever he saw an open space. He found himself in the kitchen before his phone vibrated against his palm.

_Living room. Ill come to U, its too crowded in here. Where R U?_

Freddie noted an empty counter space next to him and hoisted himself up on it, sitting up higher so that he'd be able to see Sam when she came into the room. He tried his best to ignore the anxious throbbing in his throat that he understood to be desperate concern for Carly as he typed out his reply to Sam.

_Kitchen. Good luck._

He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the hair on his forehead, wondering how long he'd have to wait before Sam managed to make her way to him. He wasn't wondering long.

"Move! Outta my way!" a voice carried over the extremely loud mingled conversation in the kitchen, and Freddie saw a short, blond head bobbing through the crowd, shoving people out of its way and moving closer towards him. He had never been so relieved to see that blond head in his entire life.

"Freddie, thank god you're here," she cried when she finally reached him, grasping his wrist momentarily. The vivid fear on her face mirrored the dark clouds funneling in his chest. He hopped down from the counter and stowed his phone back in his pocket.

"Let's start upstairs," he suggested darkly. "If you haven't seen her, it's more than likely she's still up there."

Sam nodded and led the way, clearing a path with her natural-born aggression, and all Freddie had to do was follow closely. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but smirk feebly when she blasted her way right between a couple who looked to be in the middle of an extremely heated moment in front of the stairs.

"Aren't there supposed to be parents here?" Freddie realized, for the first time since arriving, that this did not appear to be a remotely chaperoned sort of party.

"Yeah, but they don't give a crap," Sam shouted over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. "I saw them at the beginning, but after a while they barricaded themselves in their bedroom."

As they mounted the top of the stairs, Freddie stood next to Sam and gazed down the long hallway. The house did not appear to be anything special from the outside, and he hadn't been able to see much of the downstairs portion. But judging from the surprisingly quiet second story, the house was more spacious than he'd given it credit for. At least seven or eight different doors spread their way along the hall, and the same number doubled back on the opposite side. At the very end of the hallway, there was a set of carved double-doors, which Freddie assumed led to the bedroom of whoever was supposed to be chaperoning this madhouse of a party.

"I tried most of these doors before, and I couldn't find her," Sam said, "but some of them were locked."

"Which ones couldn't you open?" Freddie asked, digging around in his pocket for the keys he'd brought with him from home. Sam pointed out three different doors along the hall, and Freddie finally retrieved the keys from his pocket. Dangling alongside his front door key and his mailbox key was a miniature pocketknife, which his mother had attached for him in case of unexpected attack. He slid the knife open and handed it to Sam.

"Can you pick the locks with this?" he asked, but she'd already begun working on the first door. He'd barely gotten the question out when there was a satisfying _click_ and Sam heaved the door open with her shoulder.

Freddie's heart started pounding again, terrified of what he might see as he entered the dark room behind Sam. He groped the wall for a light switch. When he found it, he flipped it up, and the room lit up to reveal a small, tidy bedroom. The bed was neatly made, and the closet hung slightly ajar. There clearly had not been anyone in the room all night.

Relief, disappointment, and increased terror flooded Freddie's veins as they backed out of the room and shut the door. Sam led him to the next locked door, had it unlocked within seconds with the help of Freddie's pocket knife, and began to open it. Freddie rushed forward hurriedly and immediately collided with the back of Sam, who had stopped abruptly with the door just barely cracked.

"Wha-" he began to ask, bewildered.

"Shh!" she whirled around and shushed him fiercely, then pressed her eye to the crack in the door. Freddie nudged up beside her and peered inside as well.

There were two bodies in the room; one was sitting upright on the bed, and one was splayed out on the floor next to the bed.

"Hee hee! Carly!" the one on the floor chuckled stupidly. "Carly, I feel funny."

"I know," the body on the bed said in the voice of the girl he loved. "You're drunk, Evan." He couldn't figure anything out from the tone of her voice – it was flat, unemotional.

"C-carly!" Evan said, rolling around on the floor. "Are you drunk toooo?"

"No," she said shortly. "I'm not stupid."

"Awwwwwww, Carly!" he said. "We're just having funnn, right?"

"Maybe you are," she replied. "But personally, I just don't find drinking old beer your friend's parents left in the basement from his brother's graduation party to be 'fun.'" Freddie could tell, now – she sounded disgusted. He couldn't help but feel a little elated, especially since it really didn't seem like she was hurt.

"Aren't you having fun with meee?" Evan asked her, crawling clumsily up onto the bed and leaning all his weight against her, smiling lazily.

"Well…I mean, I've been watching you throw up for two and a half hours," she said quietly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his forearms.

"Let's have fun, then, Carlyyy," he said. "I'm not gonna throw up anymore. I'm alllll better! Let's have funn…" he trailed off and shoved her against the pillows on the bed, laying all of his weight directly on top of her.

"Ow," she protested, "Evan, you're squishing me. It hurts."

"Fun, fun, fun," he sang, oblivious, as he crushed his mouth down against hers. It just about made Freddie want to run the pocket knife through his own chest to watch it, but a horrible feeling of dread had settled over him. He knew it couldn't end well, and he had to keep watching. He had to make sure she was okay.

"Evan," Carly gasped when he finally pulled his mouth away. "I can't breathe."

"Mmmmm, I know," he slurred, and he began to run his hands up and down her body. Freddie cringed, his fists curling, his fingernails digging into his palms. The words "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod" looped through his brain, and he couldn't remember how to move or speak or anything.

"Stop, Evan, don't," Carly protested again, a bit more forcefully. She began to wiggle her shoulders to try and get out of his grasp.

Evan's eyes were closed as he eased his hands up Carly's shirt, slid them over her breasts, and started moving his hips against hers in a terrifyingly sexual way. Carly gasped unpleasantly and started thrashing around, saying things like "Please, no, Evan, stop, let me go!" But the kid was just too strong.

Freddie stared through the door, horrified; he wanted to cry, kick, scream and beat the living crap out of Evan. He wanted to tear him limb from limb – the white-hot anger, the shock, blazed a powerful, heated trail through his body. That he would _dare_ hurt Carly – _Carly_ - was just – it just –

Sam had flung the door open within a matter of seconds, and the feeling of being exposed to the room brought him back to his senses. The shock dissolved; he unfroze from his horrified, statuesque position, and he sprang into action, letting the adrenaline from his anger take over.

Sam tackled Evan before Freddie had a chance to blink. She yanked his arms out of Carly's shirt and twisted them behind his back, pulling him off of her and throwing him to the ground.

"Whoa! OW!" Evan cried as his body hit the floor. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Skunkbag," Sam replied, her face close to his ear as she pinned him to the ground.

Freddie made a beeline for Carly, who still lay shaking on the bed with tears in her eyes. He sat down next to her and gently tugged the hem of her shirt down so that it covered her body again. She blinked, bewildered.

"Freddie?" she asked softly, sitting up. "How…? Where did you-"

"Sam called," he replied, reaching up to touch her cheeks hesitantly. She didn't shrug away from him. He wiped the tears from under her eyelids with the pads of his thumbs. "She was worried."

"Oh, Freddie," she sighed, her face falling, her body moving instinctively closer to his, seeking protection. "I'm so stupid."

She began to cry again, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively. He was still very warm from how high his heart rate had spiked, watching what Evan was doing to Carly. She snuggled tightly against his side.

"You're anything but stupid," he told her as he watched Sam press her thumb into Evan's pressure point, knocking him out cold on the bedroom floor. She straightened up.

"I'll call my mom," she said simply, and she pressed the numbers on her keypad as Carly wept softly into Freddie's warm, tired body.


End file.
